Month: December 2011

Just when I thought I knew all about being a lady, I came across this tidbit.

“You And Your Sex Life: An

Illustrated Guide Book For

Women”

It’s from 1948. I’ll prove it.

A sampling:

“If you are a married woman and still find yourself indulging in masturbation to obtain an orgasm, there is something wrong with your marital relations. Try to work out an improved technique with your husband that will give you the sexual fulfillment you desire.”

Marital relations? No wonder women played patty cake with themselves, and while we’re on the subject what’s wrong with women jackin’ it? Masturbation has been around for centuries. If god didn’t want the ladies to she-bop, he wouldn’t have invented fingers, long arms, and snatches. And let’s be honest here: sometimes sex just ain’t enough and, well, you get the rest.

I’ve jacked it three times since writing this post.

Kidding … maybe.

More, more, MORE.

“Many married women still masturbate but only because neither they nor their husbands know enough about the art of love to obtain full satisfaction in the [WAIT FOR IT] normal act of coitus.”

Coitus? No wonder married women masturbated back in the day. Who the hell would want to coit? Or whatever the root of coitus is? Sounds like something you need antibiotic ointment for after partaking in ‘sucky sucky for fi dollah’ while vacationing in Cambodia.

I suggest reading the above link because I’m sure you haven’t seen the word ‘smegma’ in print in a long, long time — and you’ll want to see it to believe it. Now there’s a word that just isn’t used enough today.

Manscaping is on my mind because of a post I came across earlier today courtesy of the Daily Beast.

Why ‘Manscaping’ Isn’t Just for

Porn Stars Anymore

As far as I’m concerned, mowing around the twig & berries was never just for porn stars or dudes who are part of the Provincetown Male Revue. Let’s face the bare facts here: Man bits are not that easy on the eyes. Add copious amounts of unruly brillo pad-esque hair and you’ve got a very hairy baby arm holding a puckered, rotten crab apple. Eww. I know, I know, you see that image every time you blink but it’ll subside with time. Or with a direct hit to the skull with a ball-peen hammer.

Pete Wentz? They just had to go there. Hang on a sec, I’m imagining what Leo Sayer would look like naked. Hey, anyone is better than Pete Wentz. Also, I take issue with seeing the words ‘spotted owl’ and ‘female pubic hair’ in the same sentence. It reminds of the classic lyrics “One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong … ”

(I don’t want the sweats to fall off either, folks.)

I’m all for manscaping. Plenty of us gals do the lady kind, so why shouldn’t men? I posed this question to my pal Squatty, and here’s what he had to say. (bless his brilliant wit and his, um, bare-man bits)

“There are highly educated pseudo-scientists idiots there called psychologists who have spun theories about this trend, linking male preference for hairlessness generally, and on female parts specifically, with “infantilism,” which is another completely fictional condition of their own manufacture. But I’d suggest the popular trend toward the porn star look suggests that this is nothing more sinister than evolving aesthetics, a change in opinion about beauty and sexual attraction.

Idiots. They never get it right.

Or maybe more men are shaving their nuts because of bedbugs. Yeah, that must be it.”

Like this:

“Police were searching for the owner of a severed leg which washed ashore on a rental property on Thursday. The Tampa Bay Times reported that a Canadian Family called in the report around 7:40am when the leg washed up in front of their house.

The leg was perfectly cut at the thigh and the foot, and was perfectly shaven, according to investigators. “We don’t know the cause and manner of death,” said St. Petersburg police Major Mike Kovacsev ‘But obviously someone went to great lengths to dismember this body.’ “

I bet the person isn’t even dead, just a little uneven.

“The leg had no distinctive marks on it and no tattoos. The police were able to surmise that it had been in the water for a day or two before it was found. Because the leg was found shaven they are making an assumption that is belonged to a woman.

Investigators can use DNA to try to identify the victim, but investigators were quick to point out that will only work if that person’s DNA is already listed in a governmental database.”

Sounds like the po-po has a leg-up on this one. (yeah I said it)

“Officers on land and water were spread out along the shoreline Tuesday looking for more body parts and will keep searching in the coming days. Meanwhile, police are asking anyone who may have information about the leg or who it may belong to to contact them with any information that could help. There’s no shortage of ways for a leg to be dumped into Tampa Bay, which is home to numerous marinas and boat slips, countless backyard docks and also commercial shipping lanes.”

So, whilst you’re diddling your date on the beach or watching your pooch take a smelly dump in the sand then watching the kiddies build a sandcastle out of the shit-filled sand, be on the lookout for appendages that may be bobbin’ all willy nilly in the surf.

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I sent him an inquiry about his classes and below is the response. Reminder, I did not edit it because it doesn’t need it. Really — it doesn’t.

“Hi Julia … I am late responding ; but I was answering phones & stuff . How much are the classes ? ? ? They are FREE – for now . Once it catches on – then of course ; there will be a Fee … So join now – before there is a charge . Tell me though : what particular positions , are you most interested in learning how to do – The Correct Way ? Yeah , every person knows how to fuck ; but the question is – how many people are really Good , at fucking ? ? ? The answer is : Not Many … Thank you for asking the question Julia – I get that particular question ,all the time . So , are you ready to take a class , and see if you like the experience ? Call me at : 708-582-0286 , and make an appointment for your Private Class , at CHEAP THRILLS PHOTOGRAPHY : 8223 South WOODLAWN Avenue , CHICAGO , IL. 60619 … Usually , if you come between the hours of 8PM & 9PM – you do not have to call ahead , and make an appointment . Disclaimer : We do not engage in Prostitution , or pay any fees for sexual services .”

After cringing yet again about the horrible punctuation and creative sentence structure, I couldn’t stop giggling. I would love to know if the other folks who’ve asked this “particular question ,all the time” are serious or joking about it like I am. I have a feeling it’s a mixed bag.

His response, however, has raised more questions — Who else participates in these classes? Just how private are these classes? Do we have to do the nasty during the very first class? If so, with whom? Is there supplemental material we should pick up beforehand? Will there be exams? If so, how many? What type of exams are they: oral or written? What will we be graded on? Are there other courses we can take once we’ve completed this course? What else is on the syllabus? Is there even a syllabus? Is there extra credit? If so, what kind?

These are just some of the questions I have rolling around in my noggin at the moment. If you have any you’d like me to ask, please feel free to contact me.

Merry Christmas!

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Earlier, I wrote about the advantages of being unemployed, which I did mainly to make myself feel better about the shit-fuck of a situation I’m now in. Sadly, I’ve learned over the past year that the disadvantages of being job-free outweigh the advantages.

You’ll see.

1) No money. None. Zip. Zilch. Hakuna. Here’s a little tale about your pal McCrabass. Once upon a time, I had money. I made sweet moola working as an assistant film/video editor in Hollywood even though I worked almost exclusively on craptastic stuff, but the monetary rewards were fuckin’ golden. The healthcare was decent and so were the other perks like mandatory overtime, being able to write shit off, free movies and working on films. Pretty cool. I learned a great deal about myself and about human nature, so it’s safe to say that working in the movie biz is the best life training out there. That training will help me become an awesome journalist. Shit howdy — I’m already well on my way.

You’re probably wondering to yourself right about now “Hey Julia, why the hell did you leave such a lucrative career? What the crap is the matter with you??!?” I’ll tell you why — it’s a soul-stealing, and soul-sucking business. I got tired of working for self-important blowhards (you know who you are). I’d go into more detail here but it’s really not all that interesting. Basically, I had an epiphany, said “Sayonara” to LA and headed back East.

However, those of you who know me and those who know me via this blog, are well aware that Chicago has been less than welcoming. So, I’ve spent a better part of my tenure in Chicago unemployed and trying to break into a job market that’s stuck in the fucking Dark Ages. I’m broke. I got nothing. It’s depressing as all hell and sadly, this bad financial situation has taken some serious hits on my self-esteem. Needless to say, I have bupkes for self-esteem.

Add being mentally beat to shit with having no funds, and you have a troubled soul with little to offer. It sucks out loud.

2) Not being out among the living. During the past 11 months, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to get up everyday in the pre-dawn hours, shower, put on makeup, and figure out which fetching outfit I’m going to wear that day. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to ride the archaic CTA on a daily basis, and be among the beautiful people as they trudge to their jobs. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have co-workers and a job to do.

I’m beginning to feel like Tom Hanks when the plane he was riding in got all jacked up, and.. and.. he ended up stranded and skinny on a tropical island bonding with a piece of playground equipment.

In the summer, I miss getting caught on the CTA on a game day. There’s nothing more amusing that watching some Schaumburgian shitbag Cub fan who’s shitfaced on the El loudly squawking about how there are sooooo many hot women in the city but too many n*ggers.

Wait…come to think of it, being a hermit has its advantages, but the disadvantages outweigh them. I need to see the shitbags and the normal folks to keep me motivated. Going on long walkabouts (my new thing) ain’t the same as being among the hustle and bustle of the maddening crowd.

3) Few and far between. I have two freelance gigs that I love. They’re challenging and very fun. I learn tons and tons — when I’m at them. See, there’s the rub. I’m not doing either job enough because there isn’t enough work and as a result, I forget basic tasks then I make mistakes & end up feeling like a choad. Add that to the crap-for-self-esteem and being dirt poor and you’ve got a ghost of a McCrabass. Add poi, and you have the most disgusting combo platter EVER.

4) Not keeping up appearances. This ties in with #2. In short, I’m a hot mess. I don’t shower every day unless I’ve been at Bikram or out on one of my walkabouts. The need to be all clean and sanitized is a very low priority especially when there are other things that are more pressing like keeping the couch down and timing my day around “Friends” reruns.

The bad thing is, I’ve forgotten what I look like all dolled-up. I’ve had to ask friends and family if I was ever even remotely attractive since I don’t have any photos of me anywhere. (I loathe having my picture taken — cameras tend to break when they’re pointed at me. They just explode.) Makeup? Que? I have no idea what that is anymore. I came across a Laura Mercier lipstick in my purse the other day and it took a good 5 minutes of heavy-duty thinking to figure out what the hell I was looking at.

However, I have psyched myself up to wash my hair at least once a week because, after all, it’s good to have goals.

5) Time is a thief. Since I’m a member of an age group that has been deemed un-hireable, being unemployed for this long is not good. It’s a killer. Each day of me being unemployed basically ensures that I’ll never get a decent job ever again because those with no experience, but are young, are getting all the sweet gigs. I’ll never have health benefits or a 401k, or have the opportunity to get rip roarin’ drunk at the office holiday party, take my top off and dare the boss to play motor boat with my delicates. Oh the fun my co-workers coulda had.

Soon, I’ll have to get extensions, keep dyeing my hair, seriously consider getting Botox and lose a ton of weight if I ever want to get past the first phone interview. (HR folks can sense what you look like via your voice these days.) Thank god plastic surgeons have payment plans.

6) So bored. I can only write so much in one day. I can only watch so much tee vee too. I can only rearrange crap in my apartment so many times. I can only wander around this city so many times before I want to jump in the lake. I can only read so much — both online and in book-form — before I want to scream. I can only look at the job sites for so long before I want to start calling my former bosses and telling them what I REALLY think of them.

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We all know my history with spiders. I’ve mentioned it before here, here and in many a-conversation.

Apparently, spiders are like humans when it comes to carrying their bebehs around. You don’t believe me? Well, you’ll see soon enough.

From Gizmodo.

This Horrifying Spider Is The Only One That

Carries Her Babies Like a Human Mother

Would

No, no no no no no no no no no no n o n o NO NO NO NOOOOOO I did NOT just read that headline. That’s total bullshit. No way. Even opening and closing my eyes real fast, and doing Jell-O shots did not clear that headline from my noggin.

So, I kept reading because I’m an emotional cutter.

“If there’s an image that summarizes my idea of complete horror, this is it: a wolf spider carrying dozens of babies on her back. It’s the only spider in the world that does this.

It’s also the only spider that carriers her eggs in a round silken globe attached to her abdomen, like a human would carry a growing baby. After a gestation of 9 to 27 days—it varies depending on the temperature—the eggs hatch and the infant spiders move onto the mother’s back until they are old enough to hunt on their own.”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkk… my skin is starting to crawl.

Don’t believe me?? Here’s A VIDEO OF THIS ARACHNID.

“These spiders are all around the world, billions of individuals living in gardens everywhere. They are voracious predators, roaming the soil under the ground looking for other spiders and insects to eat. Sometimes, they wander into houses.

When I was living in Miami I had an encounter with one of these wolf spiders, one that was burned into my retina. I remember the hairy bastard walking down the rug of my bedroom, my girlfriend screaming, me using a shoe to kill it and then what I remember being two hundred thousand little spiders running everywhere. Then I screamed more than my girlfriend—because I hate spiders like that. [Spirderzrule—Thanks Karl!]”

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to find a hermitically sealed abode that has lots of booze, chocolate and porn. But no spiders. Peace out.